Tuesday, March 31, 2009
I'm as mad as hell and I'm not gonna take it anymore...until tomorrow or when I have time after work
I'm sorry, but getting angry just ain't gonna pay my rent this month. I really would burn my bra right now if this one didn't cost so damn much.
Friday, March 27, 2009
But it is. Holy shit, it fucking is:
(TRFW: Too Ridiculous For Work- Via)
While the Office porn parody seemed funny and harmless enough, this Cosby porn parody is silly...with an undeniable aura of creepiness. Yes, Mr. Ward's Cosby impression is amazingly spot on, but then panning over to the children, to Rudy, it's just...um...no...ugh...and I'm done. My inner seven year-old's soul just committed suicide in shame.
That being said, I'm all for an A Different World porn parody. Dwyane Wayne, Denise, Sinbad...anything to clean my mind of...(haunting shivers).
"Because we believe we should ride out these tough times...together."Classy, thy name is lubricated latex.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
That's real dedication, holmes.
Oops, old man just one upped you. And that's how you get served. (Oh, snap!)
Everything I know about love I learned from The Dot and the Line: A Romance in Lower Mathematics. Which pretty much explains a lot about the state of my relationships today.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
(Via by way of)
Monday, March 23, 2009
I've already expounded on my undying love for the inexplicable awesomeness of The Room, but last Friday night's midnight screening(s) extravaganza was a comedy geekgasm galore.
Introduction by David Wain! Tommy Wiseau's wonderfully somewhat incoherent recitation of Shakespeare's Sonnet 116! More plastic spoons, plastic footballs, confetti and fun shouting at a movie screen than I ever thought was possible!
If (or when) a screening of The Room pops up in your area, don't be an asshole- GO. Your soul will thank you (and DVD just doesn't do it justice; a multitude of jokes just don't appear until seen on the big screen- I never noticed Lisa's crazy alien neck thing!)
For more on The Room in NYC go here and here (and to see a tiny still semblance of yours truly and Lady A among the sold out huddled masses yearning to find the meaning of blind love, look for us here).
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Friday, March 20, 2009
Thursday, March 19, 2009
You're childhood's over. The end.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Somewhere in the world, a group of hipster parents are losing themselves in artsy anticipatory euphoria over the prospect of finding an excuse to expose their cherubic offspring to the world of Spike Jonze videos, and Adaptation, Being John Malkovich and possibly even Synecdoche, New York. And somewhere their children are innocently unaware of the afternoon they'll soon be spending in the theater cowering in fear as to why the big monsters are kinda scary and why they couldn't just watch their Paul Blart: Mall Cop DVD instead.
And then the children will inherit the earth... with critically acclaimed, visually stunning, creepy cute nightmares consumed with why their artistic parents ignored their cries for simple, unironic Walmart friendly fare. And we will all have won. Except for them. They will lose. Yum.
See guys? My girls in anthropology totally put out. Shocking stat? Poly sci supposedly don't get their political aggression out sexually as much as one would think. The more you know.
Oh Meghan, with your calm, peaceful politics, and your not letting bitches talk shit about your weight, you're making it real hard for me to not like you. And I do like you. Maybe not in a almost get killed for a crappy reality show way...
Monday, March 16, 2009
Kaelan was a cutie who was always polite and soft spoken when we were out. But when we went back to his place, he showed me a side of himself I hadn't anticipated. His whips. Tons and tons and TONS of whips. It was the most insane collection of whips I'd ever seen in my life (I've been to sex toy conventions since, and they still don't hold a candle to him). They didn't appear to be used for freaky things, he just seemed to really love the craft of whips and spent most of our second night together trying to show off how skilled he was at knocking shit over.
Him: "See that shot glass on top?"
Him: (Crack!) "Aye, you know how hard that is to hit from this far away? (Crack!) Hit another one again!"
Me: "Can we just drink now?"
He was a sweet guy, but his obsession with whips was just too much to overlook. It was also odd that for someone so absorbed with whips, not once did he even consider using them for things other than grabbing hats off racks.
Me: "You want to try that with me?" (motioning towards bull whip)
Me: "You know, a little whip action..." (playfully taps ass with whip)
Him: "Hey, don't do that. These aren't toys now."
I loved it. I cherished it. And you know damn well I whipped the shit out of the next guy I went out with. Crack!
Then you did this, the HRP-4C:
I don't know Japan. If you weren't so balls groping Hugh Jackman charming...
...I might have to rethink my love. Might. (Unless you're busy making a Javier Bardem sexybot for me. Then we're totally good.)
Finally, the pro-Viagra hip hop video complete with elderly makeup and an unnecessary Pete Wentz cameo the world's been desperately asking for.
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Sister Rosetta Tharpe is gonna kick your ass. And you're going to like it.
Friday, March 13, 2009
Is there anything that can't be solved by an overpriced American Apparel shirt drenched in cutesy? No, I don't think so. Drape your life in ampersands here.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
- When I was younger, the magic was found in having the oh-so-rare white friend in a predominantly Hispanic, African American, Indian and Asian neighborhood.
- In high school, the Italians and the Irish outnumbered the browns, and made me a majority of the minority.
- In college, there were stretches of classes where I was the only brown person in the class, often times picked to give "the other perspective" in class discussions.
Red Shoe Diaries turns the long post-lunch workday afternoon into a late night at your creepy uncle's house
Softcore porn will always have a soft place in my heart.
At around age nine or ten, my parents would drop me off with my uncle for a weekend once a month, to give me time to spend with my cousins as well as time for themselves to be alone (which I later learned, was alone separately). While my uncle's sons were outright tools (one occasion they thought it would be funny to put a cherry bomb inside of a teddy bear cookie jar that was given to me- assholes), he was always nice to me and bought me little gifts like I was some sort of daughter he never had, but always wanted.
He was divorced (I never got to see the mother of the demon spawn) but every so often on those weekends, he'd have a girlfriend he was seeing at the time come over, and somehow the three of us would end up spending time in the kitchen making some sort of warm, sweet concoction as we baked all afternoon (the boys were too busy blowing up neighbor's doghouses or toilets to ruin the fun, thankfully).
But after all the baking was done and the boys were busy playing video games or preparing for their industrious futures as members of Maury's "That ain't my baby" pants off dance off, my uncle and his girlfriend would let me stay up with them watching television late at night, even though it was way past my mother's suggested bed time. And at the time, it was kinda exciting. I was a "grown up" hanging out with grown ups doing grown up things like watching television late at night while the silly kids played in their rooms.
I was a grown up lady woman (who just happened to enjoy her grown up-ness adorned in pink pajamas) and they treated me that way. Even if it meant watching the full blown softcore porn of the Red Shoe Diaries right in front of me. With no hesitation. Or concern for my mental well being.
It wasn't completely creepy, sorta. My uncle and his girlfriend didn't mess around or do anything explicit right in front of me. But they would often giggle or share knowing glances. Sometimes my uncle might pinch his girlfriend on the bum or she might playfully shove him, right while I was sitting on the couch next to them. The television would moan, and the silly (even my Hello Kitty-fied mind at the time thought it was silly) instrumental music would purr, as David Duchovny or some other token boring white guy or girl or both or more at the same time would grind and massage and fake sex themselves into fake ecstasy.
Years later, my uncle and his evil sons would move away to Nebraska. He eventually got married to another nice lady, but never once did we ever talk about those nights nor did I ever tell my parents. It was our little secret. It was also all really well, gross.
But in the end, we made some darn good brownies back then. Which is all my mind wants to remember. No matter what my therapist says. Mmmm.
Damn internet, couldn't resist just making another awful remix mashup could you?
Oh James Franco, can you dream no wrong?
Monday, March 9, 2009
Granted, it does look slightly by-the-numbers, but after Watchmen's "boy-uh-wow-um-can't-wait-for-the-DVD-ness," some of us need something to look forward to (namely Marion Cotillard and her awkwardly cute thick French accent. Hey now).
Friends don't let friends (or co-workers that trust them with their wallets on weekends) to get stupid tramp stamps of dragons choking butterflies just because it's their 30th birthday. Also, sorry.
(Inside of a Best Buy on a Saturday afternoon looking for a copy of Burn After Reading for a birthday present while a gentleman in a plain white baseball cap and bright sky blue t-shirt approaches.)
Continues focused on finding DVD.
"Ay, I'm not from around here; I'm from Canada."
Long awkward pause.
"I'm just saying Ay."
"Could you just say 'ay'?"
Pause. "Okay. 'Ay.'"
"Thank you. That wasn't so hard was it?" (Walks off inaudible muttering except for "asshole.")
Friday, March 6, 2009
Now in comes Kogi Korean BBQ. Korean BBQ in a taco?
As a lover of the many great Mexican food trucks that populate the LA area, I gotta admit I was reluctant at first, because the hype of a bunch of people at night waiting in line can be a bit overblown. Hyped bullshit is still, well, bullshit.
But once you take that first bite into their Korean short ribs taco, that cilantro and chili-soy vinaigrette immersing your mouth and body with more love and joy than your godforsaken boyfriend has in months...it's a sweet and savory flavor that just makes a gal violently curse that seven month old case of Nutri-Grain bars rotting in your backseat.
Their tofu, bbq chicken, spicy pork, and even the unexpectedly good kimchi quesadilla makes the long line waits worth it. Join the hype. Your mouth will thank you.
And no, I'm not ashamed that the only reason I finally joined Twitter was to get Kogi truck location updates (Well, maybe a little).
Hey, I get it. You're in a rush, bombarded with work, no time for having a decent, healthy breakfast; not everyone can just sit down and take the time to eat something remotely real food-like, like a oatmeal, fruit or a homemade breakfast sandwich of frozen waffles, eggs, cheese, and bacon lumped on top of each other just like mom used to make when she lost all ability to instill any semblance of human dignity and self respect within you.
Thursday, March 5, 2009
When I was a kid, there was much debate between me and the only kid in my neighborhood whose parents let him watch HBO as to which show was more awesome: The Larry Sanders Show or Taxicab Confessions.
"Now you don't talk to her like that. You wash your mouth out with...Hank!" Yup, I think I win.
More full episodes of The Larry Sanders Show here.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Derrick Comedy's much talked about Sundance submission Mystery Team made its first public screening in New York City last night, and amid all the hype and anticipation, delivered arguably the funniest film of the year thus far.
Mystery Team takes the innocent Encyclopedia Brown/Hardy Boys iconography and explores the idea of what happens when naive kid detectives grow up and struggle to let go while in the crosshairs of an adult world that seemingly has no use for them. It's the absurdist take on this conflict that surprisingly works so well, and supplies the film with a comedic momentum and consistency that makes it so enjoyable.
Jason (Donald Glover), Duncan (D.C. Pierson) and Charlie (Dominic Dierkes) still drink chocolate milk, ride their bikes everywhere, and are confused by their inexplicable unpopularity for continuing their childhood detective agency kowtowing to the whims of the neighborhood's playground population. Yet when an actual double murder takes place, they finally see an opportunity to validate their arrested development, in the hopes of finding credibility for their hard earned lemonade stand diligence.
It's crude, rude, and lewd, yet incredibly charming and funny, with each absurd turn and line of dialogue perfectly punctuated with the appropriate pause of comedic timing. There's sex, drugs, violence and vulgarity to appease their devoted YouTube constituents, but its deft, sweet natured touch makes the film work as a whole.
Transitioning from short-form sketches to a 105 minute full length can be a daunting task for any comedy (see: almost every SNL sketch inspired film), but the Derrick Comedy group succeed in making their absurdism accessible while still being as a silly as they want to be. Glover's performance is a tour de force of mimicry and charm, while his partners in crime Pierson and Dierkes serve as an equally childish and hilarious counterbalance.
The supporting cast is a cavalcade of comedy veterans from the Upright Citizen's Brigade Theater scene, most prominently Aubrey Plaza, alt comedy's It Girl response to indie crush's Zooey Deschanel with a pinch of Janeane Garafalo, new SNLer Bobby Moynihan as a local convenience store Biff Loman, as well as a welcome cameo by original UCB member Matt Walsh who absolutely kills with an unexpected terminal illness joke.
While Mystery Team eventually falls prey to the unavoidable conventions of detective stories, its charming vulgarity makes the expected finale still satisfying. Though it has rightfully drawn comparisons to Napolean Dynamite for its small budget and anticipated cult following, it's widespread appeal could plausibly be likened to the simple sweetness at the core of The 40 Year-Old Virgin: as sweet as a glass of spilled chocolate milk, or losing a wedding ring inside a stripper.
Indie pop soundtrack. Charming, always likeable Joseph Gordon-Levitt doing his best madly in love John Cusack circa 1989. Uber indie crush Zooey Deschanel playing the "cynical, jaded non-believer in love. References to finding "the one." No semblance of even the most minute presence of Zach Braff or any Braff-like equivalent.
Yup folks, it's official: we're legally not allowed to not like 500 Days of Summer. Even if it is a bit cutesy. And predictable. And full of awwwww.
For our non-hipster, "manly men" worried/concerned about being dragged to this by their girlfriends: It's got Zooey Deschanel. And Minka Kelly. And Christina Hendricks' fiancee Geoffrey Arend, which isn't like having Christina Hendricks, but is almost like having Christina Hendricks, and oh yeah, did we mention Zooey and Minka? And you're done.
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Shame is a dish best served warm...alone...sweet, maybe too sweet...late at night in a corner...the aroma suffocating the senses till the willpower is broken...and then the rapturous bite...mmmmmm....whimper.
Shame knocks and peeks through the door to see if it's over. It comes inside and sits at the foot of your bed, never turning around once to look at you, fixating on the glow of the television screen, the sound of a disembodied laugh track drowning out the tears of sweet, sugary failure.
It's been several weeks since we've lost the soothing girlish purr of the magical Blossom Dearie, but it's hard to not regret missing out on seeing one of music's most distinguished voices perform while I had the chance.
While I lament the lost opportunity to catch her live round NYC, enjoy a taste of sweetness:
And her Schoolhouse Rock classic, "Figure Eight":
"So what'd you study in school?"
"Oh journalism, huh? Kinda like that Clark Gable film, eh?"
"I don't know-"
"You know which one, the uh, one with that Doris Day broad....Teacher's Pet! There you go!"
"Journalism's quite a racket, huh? All the writing and stuff. Man, that movie reminds me- I'm about the same age Clark Gable was in that one; why can't I get my own Doris Day do you figure?"
"I don't know-"
"Age is age is age, right? It's not like I'm not spry like any old regular kind of person. I could run with a nice thirty-something, don't cha think?"
"Exactly. Everything's all open and modern and such, right? So there's nothing wrong with a middle aged 74 year-old like myself getting with a nice young lady like that receptionist lady at the front desk, right?"
"Actually, I'm not sure if-"
"Boy, just like it was before it used be what it became, right? When you and I used to kick back and drink to our hearts content. Didn't need anything but a few bucks to my name, a working hot plate, and a nice lady for the night. Those were the days, you know."